


Arranged vs love marriage

by A_fighter_like_Eowyn



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Boys In Love, Comfort/Angst, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Geralt Whump Week (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, Loving Marriage, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Same-Sex Marriage, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, True Love, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Weddings, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_fighter_like_Eowyn/pseuds/A_fighter_like_Eowyn
Summary: Jaskier's parents plan for him an arranged marriage he is totally opposed to. Why should he marry a complete stranger? No, he must marry only when he is in love.And so, he flees from home the first chance he gets. Only to lose his way in the forest, get bitten by a venomous snake, and get rescued by a white-haired, amber-eyed ranger - a certain, incredibly handsome and kind Geralt - who brings him back to his hometown and to his family. And on the way, Jaskier's traitorous heart starts harbouring tender feelings for his saviour.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 150





	Arranged vs love marriage

Jaskier is livid. Furious. Foaming at the mouth. Emitting steam from his ears.

Jaskier has never been this angry in his life before.

"If I ever choose to marry, something which I have not decided yet, it will be on my terms and not yours! And it will not be an arranged marriage! No way! It will be because I fell in love with someone. It will be a love match and that's it!", he all but snarls, glowering at his father.

"How dare he! How dare ... see how your pampering has spoiled rotten this insolent brat?", Mr. Pankratz sputters in rage, turning to an abashed-looking Mrs. Pankratz, "Not only is he blatantly refusing to respect the age-old traditions of our ancestors, he is yelling at me! Insulting me! Love match - I'll show you love match, just you wait, you wild little rascal!"

A few minutes later, Jaskier's bigger and stronger older brothers all but shove him inside his bedroom and close the door with a resounding slam. They lock the door with bolts and padlocks, effectively cutting off all his routes of escape. Jaskier flops down on his bed, and continues fuming.

***************************************************************************************************

It is the day that Jaskier is supposed to meet his would-be husband and his in-laws. The last ten days have seen preparations for welcoming them in full swing, and Jaskier has paced inside his bedroom like a caged animal, not being allowed to step out for any reason whatsoever. His meals have been brought to him by his mother, who has been more or less his only source of solace and succour at a time when he is being held captive by his own father and brothers. He has not even bothered to ask her or anyone else what the name of his future husband is, nor any other detail pertaining to his in-laws, and nobody has bothered to elaborate, to his immense relief.

Jaskier is particularly frenetic today. He knows that if he does not manage to escape today - somehow, anyhow - his chances of evading this very unwanted marriage are slim. Even if he dares to misbehave in front of his in-laws (which is an idea he is not particularly comfortable with - he is a gentle and compassionate soul who loves to make friends and be polite and convivial towards everyone around him), chances are his father will convince them to accept him as their son-in-law anyway. And as far as he has heard from his mother (who herself does not know much more than what little snippets his father has deigned to part with), his would-be husband's father is friends with his own father. 

Jaskier huffs in annoyance, but does not say much as his mother comes in with his breakfast, a little earlier than usual. She sets about brushing his hair until it shines, patting a powder puff on his face to which he vehemently protests (but his protests fall on deaf ears), forces him to change into his nicest pleated shirt of sky-blue stripes on a white background (apparently it brings out the colour of his cornflower-blue eyes), and so on, all the while prattling and trying to soothe him.

"You will fall in love with him. You'll see."

"How do you know, Ma, hmm? Have you seen him even once? Met him in person? Spoken to him? Yet, you're sure, all because Baba made this match. I don't even know if our personalities are compatible. I don't know whether he is honest and loyal, kind and considerate - _any_ of these things! What if he is cruel, hmm?"

"I hear he is very noble, very kind and very generous. Besides, once you two accept each other as your mates for life, you will see how you two grow to love each other. How you two adjust to each other's needs."

Jaskier scoffs, and rolls his eyes. 

Once his mother is satisfied with his appearance, she rises from the bed, picking up the now-empty breakfast-tray. And right at that moment, Jaskier hears a commotion outside.

"Oh dear! They're here!"

Jaskier feels his heart begin to hammer in his rib-cage.

_Need to run! Need to run now! NOW!_

Mrs. Pankratz bustles out of the room, eager to greet the guests.

And in the process, forgets to lock the door behind her.

Jaskier does not fail to grab at this opportunity with both hands.

As he sprints out of his room and makes his way towards the back-door that opens onto the orchard in their backyard, he hears voices - a particularly deep, bass voice drowning out others, saying something that sounds like:

"No, the groom isn't here yet. My son did not journey with me. He had some tasks to take care of ... so he is still about a day's journey away from the town."

********************************************************************************************************

Jaskier's hometown, nestled in a valley deep in the Himalayan mountains, is a tiny but picturesque one. It is surrounded by some of the densest forests of the country, with towering trees of mighty girth rubbing shoulders with the clouds. Pines, firs, oaks, cedars, poplars, junipers - the list is endless, and Jaskier loves them all - loves watching them sway their heads to frequent gusts of bone-chilling winds. He also loves drinking in the beauty of the blue-white mountains that form a ring around the valley, their summits mantled in near-perpetual snow. 

He stumbles through the dense underbrush of the evergreen coniferous forests, his sense of direction now all but obliterated thanks to the way he has run helter-skelter the past several miles. He is still afraid of possible pursuit close behind - his father is an influential individual in these parts and it will be a matter of minutes, once Jaskier's disappearance is discovered, before he gathers local trackers to hunt his absconding son down.

It's past midday now, and the sun sits high overhead, but only a feeble green light filters through the dense canopy of foliage to dapple the forest floor. Jaskier's panting, sweating profusely despite the wintry weather of a typical Himalayan spring, and his calf-muscles and knees feel like they are on fire. He has had to make this trek wearing his slippers - nothing could be less ideal for this sort of terrain - for his boots he could not have fetched without getting caught by one of his brutish brothers and getting thrown back into his makeshift prison. And now, his feet feel blistered and sore.

He does not see where he is stepping, and he does not see the Indian cobra that lies coiled underneath the ochre-yellow dried leaves and the acorns strewing the forest floor. 

When the fangs sink deep into his ankle, pain shooting up his leg and nearly paralyzing him, he cannot keep the scream in.

It reverberates through the silent, sombre forest, and Jaskier thinks he will collapse, until he sees the snake rearing her head again, and desperate, he runs.

**************************************************************************************************************

The sun sets quite early, and the gathering gloom descends abruptly, draping a heavy blanket of darkness over the landscape. 

Jaskier sits on the giant gnarled roots of some unfamiliar tree, and dozes. He has not been able to come very far since the snakebite incident, and he knows that this lethargy in his muscles and his drowsiness are ominous signs - they do not bode well. 

He knows the venom is spreading fast. And its effects are starting to take hold of his system.

If anyone has pursued him into the forest, Jaskier has not heard any sound from them. He probably would have called for help if he had.

"What the fuck?"

Jaskier jerks awake at the rumbling baritone voice that rings out from somewhere above him, but his eyes can barely make out anything, and he finds it hard to hold the eyelids open.

His head lolls dangerously, but before he can hit the back of his head on the hard tree-trunk behind him, someone catches the back of his neck, steadying him, and he feels the person sinking to their knees next to him.

"Hey! Hey! Stay with me, stay with me..."

The voice, still appearing disembodied to Jaskier, urges him to stay awake in a gentle whisper, and he feels a rough, calloused hand smooth away the sweat-soaked, stray strands from his clammy forehead.

"Look at me. Look at me. Come on, open your eyes."

Jaskier tries. His eyelids droop. He tries to speak, but his tongue feels thick and nothing but a gurgling noise escapes him.

"Hmm. Drooping eyelids, cold, clammy skin, lethargy", the man recites like a litany. 

Pressing the index and middle fingers of his right hand to where Jaskier's pulse beats on his throat, just underneath his jawline, he waits a few seconds and counts.

"Heartrate's high. Tachycardia."

Finally, he flicks on the switch in his torch, and Jaskier blinks blearily up at the sudden, fierce glare of the torchlight streaming upon his face.

"And this crusty streak of stale vomit at the corner of the lips. Envenomation. Clear as day."

Jaskier wants to yell at the man. At how matter-of-fact he sounds.

Placing the torch upon the ground, the man leans forward and begins rolling up the hems of Jaskier's trousers, and soon discovers the bite-mark. 

"Hey!", he grabs Jaskier's chin and shakes him, and Jaskier forces himself to focus on the blurred outline of the figure in front of him, "Did you see the snake? Can you recall what kind it was? How did it look? Did it have a hood mark at the back of its head? Or was it olive green with white bands? Or was it reddish brown with black speckled bands?"

Jaskier screws up his face in concentration, but his mind is drifting in and out of conscious, coherent thoughts, and he really can't seem to recall anything ...

"HEY! NO DRIFTING OFF! ANSWER ME ... YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!", the man barks, his face mere inches away from Jaskier's, hot breath ghosting over Jaskier's face.

"I ... I think ... I ...", Jaskier slurs, breathing becoming laboured, "Cobra ..."

"King cobra? Indian cobra?"

"I - In ..."

He remembers nothing more.

*************************************************************************************************

He wakes up to the feel of soft mattress underneath him, soft blankets swathing him, and warm sunlight playing on his skin.

"Welcome back!"

Jaskier stays silent for several moments, his mind oddly buoyant and empty of worries and anxieties and concerns - indeed, empty of almost all thoughts - and he seems to be floating, and all he does is hold on to that voice that just spoke with all his strength, as if it is his lifeline. He compels himself to focus on that voice, on how it rumbles as if coming out of the belly of a mountain, how it makes him feel strangely warm and safe and taken care of, and how it feels familiar ...

And lighting-fast, the memories of the previous evening rush back into his mind, nearly slamming into his consciousness and making him wince.

"What's the matter? You in pain? Something hurts?"

The voice is steeped in concern, and Jaskier almost smiles, inwardly preening under the attention its owner is bestowing upon him, despite being a total stranger to him (he is relatively sure he has never heard that voice before).

He slowly opens his eyes, and blinks up at what could quite possibly pass as the handsomest, most strikingly attractive face he has ever set his eyes upon.

Strong, wide jawline, proud nose, noble forehead, a small widow's peak.

Milk-white hair combed back and held together (most likely - he can't see the back of the man's head yet) in a ponytail behind, and silken tresses cascading down on either side of that face, framing it beautifully.

And those eyes.

_Oh my gosh those eyes!_

Irises of a deep amber-gold shade, glinting in the morning sunshine, and a gaze that can truly be described as soul-piercing currently trained on Jaskier.

The man smiles, appearing even more regal than before, and Jaskier gulps, held captive like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching car.

Some of those gossamer-white strands are tickling Jaskier's throat as the man looms above him, and Jaskier observes with his stupid heart beginning to race those broad shoulders, those brawny arms, a sliver of that sculpted, muscular chest peeking through where the two topmost buttons of his khaki shirt have been deliberately left open.

"Who or what were you fleeing?"

Jaskier stares up at the man, a small perplexed frown slowly appearing and creasing his forehead.

"Wh --"

His throat feels scratchy, and the man disappears momentarily from view (making Jaskier panic), before returning with a glass of water.

"Here."

He wriggles a hand underneath Jaskier's shoulders and helps him sit up, propping him up against pillows that he quickly stacks next to the headboard. Tilting Jaskier's chin up, he dribbles the water into his mouth, and Jaskier swallows eagerly.

"Better?"

Jaskier nods.

"Well, before we discuss anything else, I think an introduction is in order. I am Geralt. I am a forest ranger who oversees conservation and preservation in a large portion of the forested regions in Himachal Pradesh. And you are?"

"Jaskier."

"Jaskier", the man mulls the name over, as if tasting it on his tongue for a few seconds, his expression becoming thoughtful and distant, "Very well, Jaskier, what were you running from yesterday?"

"What makes you think I was running from anything at all?"

The man smirks.

"I discovered you alone and nearly dead from a snakebite, with no bags or other possessions on you. And you were wearing slippers - _slippers_ , for heaven's sake! And you had nothing but your shirt and a flimsy jacket to ward off the cold. Not to mention that your slippers had nearly been eroded away - clearly a sign you had pushed them beyond their limits."

Jaskier gapes open-mouthed at the man. "What are you, a detective? I thought you said you are a ranger!"

The man throws back his head and laughs, and Jaskier thinks he has never beheld a more beautiful, alluring sight nor heard a more melodious sound!

"You are safe here, you know", the man reassures, his eyes sincere, "It's the town hospital - I had to bring you here for immediate medical attention after I administered a dose of antivenom I was thankfully carrying on my person."

"You saved my life, and I have not even thanked you until now", Jaskier says, suddenly breathless, and his eyes hold the amber orbs of Geralt for long seconds before the ranger smiles (a little shyly, is it?) and looks away.

"Well, I am happy to help, Jaskier. But you still have not answered my question."

"I ... uh ...", Jaskier sighs, somehow unable to bring himself to lie to this incredibly kind stranger who looks at him so expectantly, "It's ... complicated."

He pauses, and Geralt waits patiently.

"I am promised to be married to someone. It's ... it's an arranged marriage - I don't know this man, and I ... I don't know if he is kind or cruel. I don't know if he is honest or not, if I can trust him or not. I don't know if I can ever fall in love with him."

Somehow, the floodgate seems to have been raised, and confessions gush out.

"Yet my family thinks he is the one for me. I ... I am scared. I don't want to step into a relationship this uncertain. I don't want ... don't want a stranger for a husband. I ... I tried to escape."

He suddenly feels lighter, having admitted everything to this utter stranger. And he glances at Geralt ...

_... only to find the man looking at him with a pained sort of expression on that handsome, dear face!_

"Geralt, what ...?"

"Nothing", comes the hasty reply, and the features scrunched up in hurt and distress immediately get schooled into a composed, calm expression (if with a hint of resignation).

"I understand."

Jaskier stares. "You do?"

"Yes. No one should have to enter a loveless marriage."

"Th-thank you, Geralt!"

"But perhaps running away from home is not the most practical idea, especially when you do not seem to have a penny on your person", Geralt suddenly winks, coaxing a breathy laugh out of Jaskier. The man is making Jaskier feel more and more at home by the second.

"Well, may be I could borrow some from you, my good Samaritan?"

And there is that shy smile flashing again!

"I don't have much on me, to be honest. I ... uh ... made a rather long journey here, and much of my money I have had to spend on the way."

"Wow! Here? Why?"

Geralt fidgets, and Jaskier finds that so starkly incongruous in this very confident ranger.

"Some important business. My Baba summoned me."

"Oh! So, are you staying in some hotel here?"

"N-no."

"Oh! Someone's home?"

"Yeah. Friend of Baba's."

"I see."

"So, what do you plan to do now?"

"I ... don't know", Jaskier says honestly, "I am surprised that one of the doctors or nurses here has not ratted out to my father that I am here. Probably none of my family members suspects I can be found in the town hospital - they are probably scouring the forest. But it's morning now, and if I step out of the hospital building, people will see me and my father will know of my whereabouts."

"You wish to stay hidden here till the evening?"

"Nah. Someone will see me, and report to my father. I am sure of it."

"I am so sorry I had to bring you here, Jaskier - I did not know it would land you back in the midst of the very pickle you are trying to escape from. I just ... I had to make sure you would be okay ... cobra venom is neurotoxic, and I could not let you become paralyzed. And you might have needed dialysis."

Jaskier reaches forward and clasps Geralt's large hands in his own.

"You saved my life, my friend. Don't you dare apologize."

In the end, there is nothing for it but to head home.

"Come with me", Jaskier says suddenly, as they check out of the hospital.

Geralt looks at him, a little taken aback.

"I ... uh ... I shall feel ... less scared."

Geralt's hand slips down and his fingers intertwine with Jaskier's, and Jaskier revels in the feeling of that very warm palm pressing against his, and the way his stomach does a backflip at the proximity to this near-stranger.

******************************************************************************************************

They hire an autorickshaw, locally called a tuk-tuk, since Geralt deems it risky for Jaskier to make the uphill trek back home on foot given that he is still not fully recovered from the snakebite (indeed, he would have to come back a few times for follow-up checks).

As they get off the vehicle in front of Jaskier's beautiful villa, Jaskier gulps, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and terrified. He pales visibly, and Geralt, who has just paid the tuk-tuk driver, turns around and catches him in his arms as Jaskier wobbles and nearly careens forward.

"Jaskier ...", concern drips from that voice, but somehow that voice helps steady Jaskier a bit.

"I'm alright ... alright ... just ... a little dizzy ... and ... and afraid."

"Jaskier, look at me."

Jaskier lets his face be tilted upward to meet Geralt's amber eyes burning with earnest sincerity.

"Your parents love you. Yes, you should never be forced to enter a relationship by anyone, but they are not deliberately pushing you into the arms of a monster. If this man you are promised to tries to harm you, your family will be there for you. They love you, Jaskier. Breathe! This is not the end of your happiness."

And Jaskier feels his eyes brim with tears, and unable to help himself, he buries his face into the crook of this not-quite-stranger-anymore's neck, and cries.

And Geralt stands there in the middle of the road and holds him in his arms, and lets him cry, uttering not one word of comlaint.

And then the door of the villa creaks open, and out steps Mr. Pankratz.

"JASKIER! JASK! Oh, Jask!", he all but screams, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night, his throat raw and chafing from all the sobs, tear-tracks dried and stiff on his cheeks, his hair sticking out every which way, his clothes shabby and unkempt.

The old man rushes towards where his son stands (Geralt's arm still resting upon his shoulder).

Jaskier steps forward, and Geralt lets go.

And he falls right into the waiting arms of his father.

"Sorry, Baba ... so sorry", he weeps, burrowing into his father's chest, "I ... I'm so sorry. Forgive me."

Jaskier hears Mrs. Pankratz's shrill squeal, followed by her hurrying footsteps. Soon, another pair of arms envelop him in a hug.

"No, Jask Puttar, _we_ are sorry", says Mr. Pankratz, "I was ... I was just trying to ensure your happiness, but ended up pushing you away. Ended up making you feel all alone. Else, why would you run from your family?"

They finish hugging each other, and Jaskier is hugged by his two brothers and sisters-in-law after that. 

And then, he sees the stranger.

The grey-haired, old man with an impressive stature standing sedately to one side, his wrinkled face regarding Jaskier with a warm, kindly smile.

"Hello, Jaskier."

"Hello", Jaskier says, suddenly shy.

"I am Vesemir. You may have heard my name from your Baba."

"I have", Jaskier nods, before stepping forward, putting his hands together and bowing his head in a pranam, "Forgive me, Vesemir Chacha ... I ... I ..."

What could he say, after all?

"If I were in your place, and as young as you, I probably would have done something as rash and impetuous", says Vesemir with an indulgent smile, then his eyes flick to something behind Jaskier.

"I ... I hope ... you and ... and your son ... you two will be able to forgive my very puerile act. I really did not mean to offend ... offend him ... he is probably very mad at me, no?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself, Jaskier?"

"Oh! Oh, sure", Jaskier stammers, looking around slightly frantically, "I don't see him."

"Behind you."

Jaskier whirls around. But there is no one there.

No one except his family standing in a tight knot together, and a little distance away from them ...

... Geralt.

Jaskier turns back to Vesemir, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Where?"

"There."

And Vesemir points behind him again, and Jaskier looks.

_Geralt stands there, a very becoming crimson blush creeping up his throat and cheeks, his eyes downcast, his lips quirked up in a sweet, shy smile ..._

_Jaskier thinks his heart might just burst with the thrill and excitement and soaring, overwhelming joy he feels at that moment!_

Everyone else erupts in a fit of giggles, and Geralt and Jaskier stand there, stealing soft, shy glances at each other. 

Vesemir steps forward, and puts a hand on Jaskier's shoulder.

"Will you take my son as your husband, Jaskier?"

******************************************************************************************************

As the doors close behind him, cutting short the sounds of celebrations coming from the banquet hall where the guests have been gathered since the conclusion of the wedding ceremony, Geralt lets his eyes rest on his beautiful husband, waiting for him on their shared, huge, canopied bed. Perched amidst rose petals scattered all over the milk-white bedsheets, decked in an exquisite sherwani, looking like an angel ...

"Hi!"

"Hi!", comes the shy reply.

Geralt crosses over to the bed in two strides, and sits down next to Jaskier, who immediately scoots closer, and leans into his warmth.

Geralt pulls his husband into a hug, and Jaskier breathes deeply in the scent that is all Geralt.

"Still regretting this arranged marriage?"

Jaskier looks up cheekily at his ruggedly handsome ranger of a husband, and brushes his lips against Geralt's, who nearly whimpers.

"Who says it was arranged?"


End file.
